My Fresh Start
by TheSameFatalFlaw
Summary: I don’t hate my job, or wish that I’d never came to this hospital, but maybe if had a fresh start to do things differently, they wouldn’t be so complicated.
1. My Complications

**I know its a lame, over-used plot device. But I'm not a sit-com writer just doing it because I can't think of anything else, I'm actually going to use it to tell a story with some character development, I swear! And if you don't know what I'm talking about, you will by the end of this chapter.**

**Just a couple of notes: This chapter is kind of angsty, but there won't be any more of that after this chapter, I just needed to set up how JD feels about his life. Also, our one fantasy of this chapter is in **_Italics_**.**

**Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, own Scrubs or its characters.**

* * *

Why does life never turn out how you plan it? Why can't things just go the way you want them to. What's the point planning for anything in life when you know that the universe is going to do its own thing, regardless of whatever the hell you want.

Okay, maybe that's a rather dramatic and/or depressing way of looking at things, and makes me sound like a severely depressed person. Which I'm not, really. Sure, I'm a doctor which means I have to deal with death on an almost daily basis, and my life hasn't turned out exactly how I planned, but a lot of people have it much worse than me. No, I don't have a bad life by any means. It's just…complicated.

I've been awake for the past ten minutes; thinking, but the alarm that I set last night still startles me as it goes off. I hate that alarm. Its not like those ones that just go straight to the radio, or just you're average beeping alarm. It just emits this shrill, ear-splitting noise that forcefully jerks me out of my slumber every time. I quickly lean over to turn it off, and then lazily drag myself out of bed to get ready for work.

I'd rather not describe my shower to you. Not that it was particularly horrible, quite the opposite. I just wouldn't feel comfortable describing myself naked, that's all. So let me cover the shower and dressing portion of my day by further clarifying why I'm feeling a little down lately. '_Lately_' being the key word there, because things weren't always like this. Seven years ago, the only thing complicated about my life was my slightly dysfunctional family, and everybody's family is slightly dysfunctional.

But then I came to Sacred Heart, and that's when it started; that's when things slowly but surely became complicated.

You're probably waiting for me to stop blabbering and just tell you what's so complicated, right? Well, let me walk you through my day and you can see for yourself.

When I reach Sacred Heart and change into my scrubs, I walk to the nurse's station to see Carla.

"Good morning, Bambi." Carla greets me as I reach the front desk. I smile at the nickname. Even though she might be a factor in one, Carla herself isn't one of my complications. She's become a really close friend since I started here. Sometime's she feels like my Mom, other times she's like my sister. I like that balance, it comes in handy.

I make small talk as I look over the charts she hands me, until Turk arrives. He gives his wife a kiss on her cheek, and pats me on me shoulder.

"Mornin' V-bear." he says.

Before I even have a chance to reply, he's off down the hall and on with his day.

I sigh slightly. Because that's complication number one.

Chris Turk has been my best friend for years. I honestly didn't think this type of bond or closeness was possible with another human being without them being your family member or someone you're romantically involved with. But me and Turk just clicked the moment we met. We always made each other laugh, we always felt comfortable around one another, and we were always there for each other. Once again, note the past tense. Because there was a time when Turk would have stayed at that nurse's station. He would have Hi-Fived me first, and then we would talk for a few minutes about stupid stuff, what we watched on TV last night, what our plans for the weekend are, how awesome the Gilmore Girls is. That's how it was when we first started here. Even though our new jobs were exhaustingly demanding, we always made time.

I know he has a wife, and I knew when he married her that our time together was going to take a serious hit, even more so when they had a baby. But even so, I feel like I see my 'best friend' a lot less then I should. I also feel like I'm the only one making an effort to change that. I'm always there when Turk and Carla fight, but Turk wasn't there when I broke up with Kim; I was there when Carla gave birth to Izzy, but Turk was only in the building to finish a video game when Sam was born. I know I'm being dramatic, and I've been told on many occasions that I love to make myself suffer. But, sometimes it just seems like I'm his best friend when he needs me to be, but not when I need him to be; like he takes me for granted.

"Something bothering you Bambi?" Carla asks.

I smile again, because I know that Carla doesn't take me for granted. Or anyone for that matter, because Carla looks out for everybody here.

"No, I'm fine. Just a little tired." I lie.

"Okay. If you say so." She shoots me a look that tells me if I need to talk, she's waiting.

I push off from the counter I'm leaning on and start making my way to my first patient's room. Unfortunately, something suddenly sticks out in front of my leg, I lose my balance on a freshly cleaned floor and fall to the ground.

I pick up the chart that fell with me, tasting the bitter flavour of whatever he's cleaning the floor with, no doubt made especially slippery for this occasion.

"Any particular reason for tripping me?" I ask when I get to my feet, knowing I won't get a satisfactory answer. I never do.

The Janitor, smiles smugly as he leans on his mop.

"Payback." is his quick reply.

"…payback for what?" I ask again, wondering why I bother.

"For that time you wrecked my bike." he says, giving me a hate filled glare as he leans on his mop.

"That was _you_ who wrecked _my_ bike." I clarify, just as he hoped I would.

He fakes contemplation.

"Oh yeah, that was fun." And with that, he's gone.

Janitor's a funny case. Not so much a complication, more like an inconvenience. See, in the beginning he really did hate me. But I'd like to believe that he's gotten over the whole 'penny in the door' incident. We've even worked to together a few times. And he seems to be playing pranks on me a lot less frequently than he used to. Now I really think that he just does it out of habit. And I wonder: If I hadn't met him in that doorway seven years ago, if I had met him in a completely different, none confrontational way, would he even play pranks on me at all?

* * *

It's a few hours later that I have my first meeting of the day with Dr Cox. He's at the nurse's station, his hands covering his face. He looks exhausted.

"You okay?" I ask when I approach the desk.

"I'm fine Newbie, just dandy." he says, taking his hands down and picking up his chart.

"You look exhausted." I tell him honestly.

"It's a side-effect from the lack of sleep." he shoots back. "Y'see Jordan decided to switch her Bitch-O-Metre to full blast last night, which meant the insults from inside the Cox/Sullivan residence could be heard throughout the whole building."

"Wanna talk about it?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.

"With you?" he says, with an amused grin. "No thanks, Nancy. I'd rather throw myself off a cliff than have a hear-to-heart with you."

He picks up his chart and walks away.

He's just being Cox, I know that. But, man, that still stung.

This is our next complication, which is something that's been bugging me for about 8 years. I've idolised Cox since the moment I started here. And everyone thinks that I've achieved my dream of being his protégé and gaining his respect. But that was only part of the dream. The other part was to be his colleague, and maybe a friend who he could confide in, too.

But Cox only opens up, on rare occasions, to Jordan and Carla, and sometimes his shrink. I wanna be a part of that group. I want to be more than just the protégé, I want to be his equal.

Unfortunately, even though it would be rare if the others did, this is the complication that can never change, that can never be fixed. Cox, although he respects me as a Doctor and has told me that's he's proud of me, will always see me as beneath him. Personally, I still think its because I hesitated putting that damn IV in on my first day.

* * *

The cool evening air catches me off guard as I exit the doors of Sacred Heart a few hours later, finally done for the day. I stick my cold hands in my pockets and take the first few steps of my journey home, but a voice stops me going any further.

"JD, wait up." the voice calls out.

Turning around, I see that I've walked straight past Elliot, who was leaning on the railings in front of the exit.

"Hey." I answer, walking back up the ramp to where she's standing.

"I've been waiting for you; wanna get a beer?" she asks.

10 minutes later, we're sitting on stools at the local bar. Elliot's talking about…something; I'm not really listening.

Instead, I'm debating whether or not she's the biggest complication of all. When she told me that she had be waiting outside the hospital for a half hour, because she'd had a rough day and felt like getting a drink with me would cheer her up, I got a familiar feeling in my stomach. The one that I've been getting off and on for the last seven years. But on the way to the bar, when we started laughing uncontrollably because we saw a drunk guy fall over, I scolded myself for nearly ruining a close friendship with the same funny feelings.

"You've been to New York, what's it like?" Elliot asks, dragging me out of my thoughts.

It then that I realise I don't have an answer for her, because I haven't listened to a word she said, distracted by her both her status as a complication in my life, and by how her pretty her hair looks when she wears it up like that.

She recognises my blank look and presumes I've been daydreaming instead of listening to her. In fairness, it's the most likely answer; I daydream way too much these days, but God I love it!

She sighs and rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. I guess she's used to it by now, and sees no point in getting angry over it. Instead, she just repeats herself.

"I'm being sent to a Med convention in New York tomorrow." she says.

"Oh."

"I really don't feel like a trip to Manhattan but, I don't make the rules. So, what's it like?"

When did I tell Elliot that I'd been to New York? I've never been to New York!

Unless…

_2001, JD's 3rd day of Sacred Heart._

_A much skinnier JD and an Elliot whose in scrubs sit across from each other in the cafeteria._

"_My dad has worked all over the country; from California to…"_

_It's then that Elliot starts to list everywhere in the United States, and JD just trying to get a word in, suddenly says:_

"_I've been there!"_

_Elliot stops and stares._

"_You've been to New York?" she says, as that's where JD stopped her._

"_Y-yeah, sure."_

"_Oh, cool. Anyway…"_

Damnit! I said a lot back then, just trying to impress her.

"It's er…nice." Is the best I can come up with.

Her grin disappears, replaced with her eyebrows furrowing.

"You okay?" she suddenly asks, her voice full of concern. "You look… different"

"Different?"

"Yeah. Like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders." She puts her hand over my one that's resting on the bar, and asks again: "What's wrong."

Like I said before, I'm not usually a depressed person. Far from it. So, people asking me why I look so down, is a little uncomfortable for me. That's why I pulled my hand out from under hers.

"I'm just tired." I lie again. I don't know if she bought it or not, so I try and change the subject to what time she's flying out.

We stay at the bar for about another hour, just talking, winding down from crappy days. We've been doing this a lot lately. Maybe its because, like me and Turk, Elliot's doesn't get to see Carla as much as she used to, or maybe its something else.

Before she gets in her cab, Elliot gives me a long hug, which isn't something we do much anymore. Maybe its because she's going away for the next couple of days, maybe its something else.

I don't know what to think about her anymore.

I watch her cab drive around the corner, out of sight, and start walking home.

Whether Elliot's the biggest complication or not is debatable, but she's definitely the most confusing one. We've been through a lot over the last seven years, and we've hurt each other badly more times than I can remember. We've alternated between being madly in love, to hating each others guts; gone from platonic friends to significant others. There are times when I've been sure she's the one, and others when look at her as my second best friend, joint with Carla and behind Turk. I was convinced she was the latter for the last couple of years, after I drove her away from her perfect boyfriend and we decided to just be friends. But then that night in the on call room happened, and the confusion returned. After about three years of just being buds, I can't deny I wanted to kiss her. Ever since, I've had moments like the one while we were walking to the bar, we're I jump between feelings.

How do I feel about her, right now? I honestly don't know.

Sometimes I wonder if I was ever in love with her, or if I was just idealising her the whole time. Maybe I've always been in love with her, but my chronic fear of commitment kept us as just friends.

I just wish I could remember, before the on-call room incident, before any false declarations of love, before any sex buddies, before we crushed each other at every chance we got; I just wish I could go back in time, before all that, and remember how I truly felt about her.

Unfortunately, no one has invented time travel yet (though the Janitor says he's close to doing so), which means all the drama from over the years is clouding what my basic feelings were.

I finally reach my apartment, and don't feel up to doing anything else except sleep.

And that's my day. Still think it's not so complicated? No? Didn't think so. Like I said before, I know there are a lot of people in this world who have a much crappier life, but the fact that mine sucks right now is still getting me down. Wanna know the worst part? I have no clue how to make things right. I can't talk to Turk or Dr Cox, because let's face it (and as I've already said about Cox), they're not exactly 'Let's sit down and about your problems' kind of guys are they? I can't talk to Elliot because, well considering I don't know how I feel about her, I don't know what I would say, and a few wrong words might do irrevocable damage to our shaky-at-the-best-of-times friendship. I could talk to Carla about all of the above, but she'd just tell me to talk to them.

Sometimes I remember the wide-eyed, happy go lucky kid I was when I first started at Sacred Heart, and I wish I could go back to that time. Because I don't hate my job, or wish that I'd never came to this hospital, but maybe if had a fresh start to do things differently, they wouldn't be so complicated.

But like I said, that's exactly an option. And tomorrow morning, I'm going to have to get up and deal with this all again.

Don't believe me? I'll prove it.

* * *

_The Next Morning_

See? Told you.

Anyway, I make my way through the parking lot, towards the hospital, trying to stay positive. I reach the bottom of the ramp outside the entrance, but something stops me going up. Something tall and wearing a jumpsuit.

"Well, well, well. Look who's returned to the scene of the crime."

I sigh once more. The Janitor is blocking my path. He's carrying a large, heavy-looking plank of wood over his shoulder.

"What are you talking about?" I honestly don't know why I keep answering, its exactly what he wants me to do.

"It was in this very spot not so long ago," he announces arrogantly "that you wrecked my precious bike."

I'm too tired to even bother playing his games, so I sidestep him and try to keep moving up the ramp way. I'm just past him when I hear his voice again.

* * *

"Crime doesn't pay, Scooter!" The Janitor said. He wanted to make sure his nemesis heard him, so he swirled around to face his retreating form, swinging the giant piece of wood around with him.

JD rolled his eyes at the taunt, but in doing so missed the plank of wood approaching from the right.

With a nasty crack, the wood collided full force with the side of JD's temple, sending the doctor instantly to the ground.

The Janitor laughed, staring at JD on the floor and thanking God for that unexpected bonus.

"I told you, Scooter: crime doesn't pay!" he said.

The Janitor waited for the groan, or the sissy call for help, but it didn't come. Nothing did. In fact, JD wasn't moving.

"Scooter?" Janitor said nervously.

He lightly nudged the doctor with his foot to see if he would move, but he didn't. However, the Janitor noticed something trickling away from his head. Something crimson.

"…Uh-oh."

* * *

Dr Dickinson watched as his patient's eyes flickered open, reacted to the light streaming in from the window and then closed again. It was a few seconds before they re-opened. He looked around the room, taking in the surroundings, and inevitably stopped when he saw Dr Dickinson.

Dickinson opened his mouth to talk, but didn't get a chance. The door to the patients room burst open, and three people entered. Two of them, a surgeon and a nurse who he had seen around the hospital but who's names he did not know, were looking at Dickinson's patient with eyes full of worry. The third person was someone Dickinson did know, who it was impossible to work in this place and not know: Dr Cox. Cox did not share his companions worried expressions, instead looking slightly uninterested and cranky, as if he was here against his will.

"JD, are you are alright?" the nurse was saying now, approaching the bed where Dickinson's patient was lying.

"V-bear, you okay buddy?" the surgeon said.

"Newbie, what the hell did you do now?" came Cox's voice.

"Hey, hey, hey." Dickinson interrupted, instantly getting in between the three people and his patient's bed. "Lower you're voices and stop asking the man with the head injury so many questions at once."

They obliged and took a step back.

Dickinson turned back to face his patient, who looked completely overwhelmed. "Sorry about that. Now, as standard procedure for head injuries like this, I'll have to ask you some simple questions to rule out brain damage, okay."

The man gulped, but nodded his head, and Dr Cox let out a 'This is pointless, he's fine' sigh.

"Okay, first: Can you tell me your name?" Dickinson asked, which was met with a similar sigh from Cox.

"Uh…" the kid looked at all four people in the room, embarrassed by the answer he was about to give. "Not really, no."

A gasp from the nurse, a jaw drop from the surgeon, an 'Are you serious?' stare from Cox.

Dr Dickinson just tapped his pen on the clipboard, not able to tick the 'Knows own name' box on the form in front of him.

"These next few question might not be so simple after all, then." he said.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and I'll update as soons as I can, but PLEASE drop me a review if you liked this. **

**Peace.**

* * *


	2. Diagnosis

**Two 'sorry's coming up...**

**Sorry Number 1: Sorry it took so long to update this story. Between some personal stuff, and having alot of Uni work thrust upon me, I just didn't have the time till recently. I'll try to keep the updates more frequent from now on.**

**Sorry Number 2: Sorry this chapter is so short and filler-y. Its really just to establish whats wrong with JD, the repurcussions of that will be in the next chapters. Oh, and I researched this particular condition as best I could, but if I've got some things messed up then I apologise.**

**Also, since she's been advertising my story, I'd like to tell anyone who hasn't (Especially JD/Elliot fans) to check out anything written by _Tell Her This_, who's stories are fantastic. A personal favourite is "Catch My Disease", but they're all awesome!**

**P.S. The website went kind of weird while I was uploading this, so if there's any problems, just send me a PM and I'll try and sort it out.**

* * *

"Retrograde Amnesia." The words rolled off Dr Dickinson's tongue. He said this just as he shut the door to JD's room behind him.

The group of people in front of him, who had been waiting nervously for him to join them, had different reactions to his statement. Carla was too busy looking through the window into JD's room, watching him sitting on his bed with an almost blank expression on his face, to have properly heard Dickinson's announcement. Dr Cox was waiting for a further explanation, staring at the other Doctor as if he had five minutes to explain what was wrong with JD, and what they could do to fix it; because they _would_ be able to fix it; or he would have his head ripped off. Turk was in between his wife and Cox, alternating between worried glances at JD through his window and attentive glances at the Doctor in front of him, wanting to hear exactly what the situation was.

Dr Dickinson, initially at least, didn't do what any of them wanted. Instead, he just let his statement hang in the air, rocking back and forth slightly on his heels, as if those two words were all that needed to be said.

Finally, Dr Cox could take no more.

"Is that it?" he snapped. "You're gonna say that and expect us to know what you mean?"

To his credit, Dickinson didn't flinch at Cox's raised voice.

"No." Dickinson said. "But, in my experience, launching straight into an explanation after pronouncing a diagnosis can be overwhelming for a patient's loved ones."

Dr Cox looked at Turk, with a 'Is this guy for real?' expression.

"We're Doctors, you idiot, we give bad news every day. I think you'll be able to tell us what's wrong with someone, without us all having breakdowns!"

Again, Dickinson seemed unperturbed by Cox's growing anger.

"Very well then." he said, and taking a deep breath, continued. "Dr Dorian suffered damage to the brain regions most closely associated with episodic or declarative memory."

At this point, it seemed Dr Dickinson had already lost both Carla and Turk. Carla's training didn't deal so much with the layout of the brain, and Turk was a surgeon meaning he focused only on the part of the body he was slicing open that day. So neither knew much about how a person stores their memories. And so, Dickinson felt the need to elaborate.

"Different sides of the brain store different types of memories. The right side; declarative memory; is a bank of personal information - name, family, friends, life experiences - that sort of thing. It looks like the damage from the accident only affected that side of the brain. The left side; Non-declarative, appears fine from my initial exam. Non-declarative memory works on an unconscious level. It's how JD can still walk and talk and do all the things that a person does naturally without thought."

There was a brief pause as Cox, Carla and Turk took that in.

"So, JD doesn't know who we are?" Carla asked.

"I'm sorry, no." Dickinson replied, with a sympathetic shake of his head.

"So, what can we do." Cox said, accepting the problem and immediately going about setting it right.

But Dickinson paused himself before answering.

"Nothing."

Again, there was another brief silence, this time as the three wondered if they'd heard that right.

"What do you mean 'nothing'?" Turk said.

"I mean there's no medical treatment I can give JD. I can examine him from time to time to see if there's been any progress, but his memory will either return by itself over time… or it might not come back at all."

Carla closed her eyes, and Turk quickly grabbed her hand.

"Well, what chance does it have of coming back?" Cox asked.

"50/50. The best thing you can do is let JD rest up for a little bit, then take him places and show him things that were important to him, that might jog his memory. Don't push it, if his memory comes back, it'll take time. And, I'm sorry, I really am, but you have to prepare yourself for it not coming back all."

Turk felt Carla grasp his hand, and he knew she was crying. He grasped right back, because he was trying to hold back tears himself. Dr Cox just had a vacant look on his face, and Turk didn't think it had truly hit him yet.

"Can we see him?" Carla mumbled.

Dickinson looked at her, and even though he'd had patient's relatives look at him like that a hundred times before, it still broke his heart.

"I'm sorry." he said. "But if you all go in… it might be a little much to have three people telling him they know him. Only one of you can go in, for now."

Without another word, Cox turned and walked away. The Turks shared a look, and agreed without talking.

Dr Dickson stepped aside to let Carla in.


	3. Did I Miss Much?

As Carla began to open the door, Dr Dickinson stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"I almost forgot. Remember, for him, this is the first time you're meeting. So anything that may have become acceptable during your friendship; nicknames, hugs, that sort of thing; will probably make him uncomfortable."

Carla nodded, and went inside.

JD, from his seated position on the end of his bed, turned towards her.

Carla closed the door behind her, and leant back on it for support. His eyes, the way he looked at her, it was just blank. JD. The intern who she took care of, the friend she gossiped with, the doctor who cared what she said. There was no trace of that in those eyes. He looked at her, like he was seeing her for the first time. And that broke her heart.

"Hi." was all she could say.

"Hi." he replied.

She forced herself to keep the tears at bay, that wasn't what he needed now.

"Is something wrong?" he asked

"What?"

"Dr Dickinson said I had amnesia, but physically I was fine…well apart from this." He touched the bandage on his head, winced, and pulled the hand away. Then he looked at her, anxiously.

She realised she was wearing scrubs and a stethoscope. He thought she was here to examine him.

This was too hard.

"I'm not here to check on you, I'm here to…"

That vacant gaze.

"Honestly, I don't know what I'm here to do." she said, walking over and sitting on the bed next to him. "I'm your friend, Carla."

"Nice name." he said, awkwardly, and she couldn't help but smile just a little bit.

"Thanks."

As silence descended on them for a few seconds, the only thing Carla could think to say was: "How're you feeling?"

"Uh, fine, I guess. My head throbs a little, but apart from that, forgetting everything that's ever happened to me has been painless."

"So you've really got… _nothing_?"

He shook his head. "Nada."

"And how is that?"

He looked at her, frowning. "I don't know. Haven't really had a chance to think about it. It depends, I suppose. Did I miss much?"

Carla smiled. He may have forgotten everything about himself, but it was clear that it was still JD in there. And that, for the moment, made her feel a little better.

"Nah." she joked.

He smiled, and they sat in silence for a few minutes. Carla wondered if JD had truly grasped what had happened to him.

"So." he said, bringing her out of her thoughts. "What now?"

"Uh… I guess, if Dr Dickinson clears you medically, we take you home and get working on getting your memory back."

"Okay." he said. "And if it doesn't come back?"

She answered immediately. "It will. Just wait here, JD, I'll check with Dr Dickinson."

She got up and was half through the door when his voice called her back.

"Carla?"

"Yes?"

"What does 'JD' stand for?"

* * *

JD stepped through the doorway after Carla and Turk, but didn't go much further, instead looking around the small apartment.

"So… this is where I live?"

"Not exactly." Turk said. "You used to live here, but you moved out."

"We'll take you home in the next couple of days, but I thought it would be best if you stayed here for a while, to rest." Carla added.

JD nodded, and strolled around the room.

"Do you recognise anything?" Turk asked.

JD focused on a picture hung on the wall. Himself and Turk, in Graduation gowns. He could see that he was there, but he had no idea it had ever happened.

"Nothing." he said.

Even with his back to them, JD could almost feel their shoulders slump.

"That's okay." Carla said. "It's still a little early." She took off her coat, moved into the kitchen and started looking through the cupboards.

Not long after, the three of them sat down to dinner, and Turk and Carla set about telling JD his life story.

"So the minute I walk into the dorm room and introduce myself," Turk was saying. "you start talking about dungeons and dragons, and all kinds of nerd stuff. And I thought, 'Man, I can't wait to get rid of this guy.' But here we are, I don't know how many years later."

"Tell me I wasn't that nerdy all through college."

"JD, you've been that nerdy you're whole life."

They all laughed.

"So who was that other guy, the Doctor who came into my room with you."

"That's Dr Cox." Carla answered. "He's kind of your reluctant mentor, you latched onto him on your first day. He pretends like he hates you, but he's proud of you, trust me."

JD smiled at Izzy, who he had just met, as she sat on her father's knee.

"Oh," Carla suddenly exclaimed. "I'll have to call Elliot, she doesn't know yet."

"Who's Elliot?" JD asked.

The Turks shared a silent look.

"She's a friend of yours." answered Carla. "And of ours. Of all of ours. She's part of our little gang."

There was suddenly an uncomfortable feeling in the room. JD thought it strange, but chose to let it go rather than push the subject.

* * *

JD didn't sleep that night.

He was on the couch. Izzy occupied what he was told was once his room. There was nothing wrong with the couch. It was quite comfortable actually. But JD still couldn't sleep.

Instead, he did what he had been doing since the moment he stepped into the apartment. He looked around the room, at every single thing in it, and pleaded with God to let him remember.

Everything, if possible. But if not, just little things would be fine for the moment. Just let him remember when the pictures of him and the Turks scattered around the apartment were taken. Or waking up and eating breakfast at the table here. Or who Elliot was.

He blinked. At the thought of that name, he felt something. Not a memory. Not entirely, anyway. But something. Something… familiar. A feeling. One he couldn't quite name. It was confusing. But, then again, so were most things recently.

He hadn't been born today. He knew he had lived for 32 years before this morning. He could feel it. But he couldn't remember. There was something before that first view of waking up in a hospital room, but he couldn't see it. Everything before this morning was just black.

JD clenched his eyes shut, as though trying to force himself to remember. But he couldn't.

He was starting to doubt he ever would.


	4. Inevitable Outburst

**I am SO sorry I haven't updated for so long. I had some SERIOUS trouble writing this chapter, and had to change it loads of times. For starters, I turned it upside down. The start of this chapter was originally the end (and, at one point, the beginning of the next chapter), and I also cut out a Dr Cox conversation that will now be in the next chapter.**

**The next chapter will be up much sooner, as while I was stuck with this I wrote some of that.**

**P.S. I just want to thank _Tell Her This_, who was really patient when I kept reporting how little progress I was making with this chapter, and even sent me an early draft of a story that hasn't been posted yet that was freaking AWESOME, and you're all in for a treat when it's eventually up.**

**Anyway, on with the show!**

* * *

JD ran his fingers through his un-styled hair.

Turk and Carla said he always had it gelled up, and he got the feeling they wished he would do still do it. While he had thought about it, and wanted to make this a little easier on them, since they had been so caring towards him, he still wouldn't do it. It was just too weird; as if he was pretending to be his old self, who was a stranger, at least to this JD.

_God,_ he thought _this amnesia stuff is confusing._

"Hey." A voice from the doorway of the staff lounge brought him out of his thoughts.

From his seated position on the couch, he turned to see who it was.

It was a surgeon. He could tell because Turk said they wore green scrubs, but this guy looked like he had torn the sleeves of his off. He had 'DOC' tattooed on his arm.

"If its any consolation," the guy said. "The whole amnesia thing gives your package a much bigger bulge."

JD blinked. "Um, it's not…but, hey, thanks anyway."

The man nodded, and walked away.

JD wondered if that was a mental patient who had came across some scrubs. He shook his head and turned his attention back to the television. Though he hadn't really been watching it before.

Today, Turk and Carla had brought him into Sacred Heart to begin the process of trying to revive his memory. And after an hour or so of a guided tour around the hospital, complete with "And this is where you [do something that you can't remember ever doing]" commentary, JD had taken a break.

Being in the hospital again was… strange. Just 24 hours ago, in a room not too far from here, was the first thing he could remember: opening his eyes, Dr Dickinson, "Can you tell me your name?".

Feeling the need to stretch his legs, he got up and walked out of the doctor's lounge. About 3 minutes into his walk along the halls, he remembered why he had been so desperate for a break last time.

He couldn't remember ever walking these halls before, and it was really starting to piss him off.

He came to a stop next to a cleaning cart, and sighed. _Calm down_, he told himself, _the mind won__'__t remember anything if it__'__s too busy being pissed_. But it was hard not to be, because nothing was ringing any bells. And that was increasingly starting to confirm the worst; that those bells wouldn't ever ring.

He sighed again, because this really wasn't helping. He looked around the hallway, and his eyes were bizarrely drawn to something next to him.

A supply closet.

"_because you're cute, and you're fun… and I told him to."_

JD stared. Was that a memory? Had he said those words in that supply closet?

"Hey, man." Turk said.

JD jumped slightly, and turned to the surgeon who was suddenly next to him.

"You had a weird look there, did you recognise something?"

JD glanced back at the supply closet. Whatever he thought he had remembered, he seemed to have already forgotten. Now that he thought about it, he was probably just imagining things, as a result of trying so hard to remember anything.

"No." he said, then turned back to Turk. "Sorry."

Turk clasped a hand to his shoulder. "Don't worry, buddy, it'll come. Come on, Carla's waiting for us."

They walked off down the hall and turned the corner. A second later, the Janitor poked his head out from behind the cleaning cart, saw that they were gone, and came out from his hiding place.

At the nurse's station, Carla was talking to her fellow nurses when she saw her husband and JD approach. JD rolled his eyes when the nurses all shot him a pity-loaded stare and walked away. He knew they meant well, but that look was starting to get annoying.

"Hey." Carla greeted. "I just got off the phone with Elliot."

She paused, and shared a look with Turk. The brief silence every time this Elliot girl was mentioned was another thing starting to annoy JD.

"How'd she take it?" Turk asked.

"Not so good, she's upset. She's trying to get the next flight out, but she probably won't be home till tomorrow. How about you?" she turned her attention back to JD. "How're you feeling?"

JD resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. Since the moment he woke up that morning, Carla had done nothing but ask him how he was feeling.

"I'm fine." He answered, and waited for her to ask the other question he was being asked constantly.

"Remembering anything?"

He sighed and said "No." as nicely as possible.

Carla and Turk were being too good to him, but the only thing more frustrating then not being able to remember a single aspect of your own life, is people repeatedly asking you if had yet. Coming in at a close third was the dejected look that was quickly replaced with forced optimism.

"It'll come, Bambi."

He was distracted from frustration by two separate beeps. Carla and Turk instantly went to their waists and pulled out a pager.

"Kelso." Turk stated.

"The chief guy, right?" JD asked.

Carla nodded. "He probably wants to talk about us working while we take care of…" She trailed off, not wanting JD to feel like he was a burden. "So, this shouldn't take long, do you wanna just wait here for us? Will you be okay?"

_I'm not a child!_ JD internally snapped. But this woman had taken him into her home and wanted nothing more than for him to have his life back.

"Yeah, sure, I'll be fine."

And then they were gone.

--

JD gazed at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, and wasn't surprised to see that he looked exhausted.

_A side effect from the lack of sleep_, he mused.

This morning had not been pleasant. He hadn't _expected_ to remember anything, but he had hoped. So returning to the apartment that evening without any change left him slightly depressed. On top of that, Carla, was smothering him. Asking him if he was okay every 5 seconds, if he needed anything. He knew she meant well, but it was adding to the building frustration.

He sighed, still looking at himself in the mirror. Whatever he had initially came in here for was long forgotten; he had done nothing more than stare at his reflection and think about the same things that had plagued his mind since yesterday.

When he eventually walked out of the bathroom, Turk and Carla were sitting next to each other on the couch, talking in hushed voices. Carla saw him and replaced her previously serious expression with a bright, fake smile.

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

This time he couldn't stop his eyes rolling.

"I'm fine. Now what was all that about?"

The fake smile twitched, and she looked at Turk.

"Nothing important, buddy." he said. "So, what do you want to do tonight?"

He looked between them both, and decided that he didn't have the energy to talk it out of them.

"I don't know." he simply said, and wandered over to the fridge. When she saw what he was doing, Carla nearly fell over the couch in her rush to get to him.

"Oh, you're hungry? Want me to fix you something?"

"I'm just looking for a snack." JD said, with an air of annoyance that he hoped Carla would catch.

She didn't.

"Are you sure? Because I can make cookies if you want?"

JD clenched his eyes closed and bit his lip, the fridge door hiding him from Carla's view. He tried his hardest not to slam the door as he walked away from the kitchen, his hunger forgotten.

"So, did you guys call my brother or my Mom or anything?"

The main objective of that sentence was for JD to get Carla to stop annoying him, but then Turk and Carla looked at each other _again_, and he found himself once again reminding himself of everything they had done for him, and how ungrateful and wrong it would be for him to show any sign of how they were starting to make him want to ram his head into the wall over and over and over.

"We thought maybe it would be best to wait a while before we tell your family." Carla said carefully.

"Why?"

"Because Dr Dickinson said its important for you to get some rest in these early stages - "

"So I shouldn't even tell my family?" JD said, standing up from the couch.

"If we tell them then they'll want to come here, and with me and Turk and everyone at the hospital and…Elliot…coming tomorrow, we just think that having so many people around you might be a bit much."

The reply was on the tip of his tongue, he wanted to snap that treating him like a baby was a bit much. But he held back again, which only built his frustration JD couldn't believe what he was hearing. They wanted him to keep something this serious from his own family?

Sensing JD's growing anger, Turk said "Dude, we're just trying to protect you."

"What happens when they call? You want me to hide from them that _I can't even remember what they look like_?"

"JD calm down." Carla said, and Turk stood up to help her.

"They won't call." he said, missing the warning look his wife was sending him.

"Why?" JD snapped.

"Because you guys aren't even that close!"

By the time he saw his wife's gaze, it was too late. JD was just staring at them, anger and hurt etched on his face.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded. And when he didn't get a reply, "How often do I see them?"

"Your brother comes here about once every year." Carla offered. "We told you about your Dad."

"And my Mom?"

Carla looked away so Turk answered.

"You, uh, haven't seen her for a couple of years, and if you called her you haven't mentioned it."

From everything Turk and Carla had told him, he seemed to have a perfect life. They just left that part out. After a minute of silence in the room, Carla and Turk anticipating his reaction, and JD feeling the restraints on his frustration give way, he tried keeping his voice as level as possible.

"I'm outta here."

He walked to the door, grabbed his jacket and opened it.

"JD wait." Carla cried.

"For what? Anything else you forgot to mention? Maybe I have a wife, and you thought having her around might be smothering me a little."

"We were just trying to take care of you." Carla said through the beginnings of tears.

"Yeah, well you where the ones who ended up smothering me."

He slammed the door behind him.

---

A few minutes later, his angry walk had slowed to a stroll when he reached the park, as the fury died away and guilt settled in. The things he'd been using to keep his temper under control, thoughts of all Carla and Turk had done for him, returned, this time as shameful reminders of what he'd done. Even though it was what finally broke him, the whole family thing didn't even bother him that much. Everybody's families had issues, and if he'd created an idealistic picture of the family that he couldn't remember, then it wasn't Turk and Carla's fault if that wasn't a reality. And with all the craziness of yesterday, it probably wasn't the best time to try and explain the Dorian family woes.

He'd have to head back soon, they were probably worried sick. After all, he didn't know this area, or any area for that matter. It was by complete luck that he'd ended up at the park. But for now the silence was comforting. The sun was just staring to descend, and he kicked some fallen leaves as he walked.

"Hey, doodie face!"

JD looked up to see a kid not far from him, a sling shot aimed at him and pulled back. Before he could even react, a rock pelted him in the chest.

"Ow!"

But the kid wasn't done, having already reloaded he was now aiming his sling shot at JD's head, who figured that people recently diagnosed with amnesia probably shouldn't take any rocks to the temple. He shielded his head with his arms immediately.

"Jack!" came another voice; adult, female, and dangerous.

He opened his eyes and peered through his arms to see the child look briefly disappointed, and then run away. When he tooks his arms down, he saw (presumably) the boy's mother was walking towards him.

"How's it going, DJ?" she said with a smirk.

"It's JD." he replied without thinking.

"Whatever." she shrugged.

"Sorry," he said, frustration rising again. "but do I know you? Or do you and your child just assault random people in parks?"

"Ooh! Sally Sensitive finally grew a pair! And all it took was teeny-weeny bout of amnesia."

He sighed. "I do know you?"

"Sadly." she smirked again, and then, making JD jump, suddenly barked "Jack Cox, get away from that pile of dog poop!"

"Jesus." JD breathed. "Wait, Cox?"

"I'm his wife, except not really."

"JD, but you probably know that."

"Jordan."

He offered his hand, but she just looked it, laughed, and walked over to a tree to lean against it. "So you must be on top of the world right now, having forgotten what a whiny little girl you used to be."

"I somehow get the feeling we weren't all that close?"

"Your amazing ability to cry over nothing annoyed me."

"Ah."

"Which, I can see, you haven't lost. Even if you have kicked it up a notch." There was that smirk again.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, please, the sunset walk through the park, the 'poor me' leaf-kicking, I bet you were actually thinking 'this silence is comforting' in a whiny little voice."

"W-well, you would be wrong in thinking that."

She cocked an eyebrow, and saw right through him.

"Well in my defence, I think I have a damn good reason to cry! I have no recollection of my entire life up to 24 hours ago; I have two friend who think the best way to deal with this, is to suffocate me with fake smiles and cookies; and I recently discovered that my family only meet up at funerals. So I think I have a bit of a reason to be depressed."

For a second Jordon just stared at him, and then: "I thwink I hwave a bwit of weason to be depwressed!" she mocked.

"Very mature."

"Just so you know, Sally, that first one is the only real reason your acting like its your time of the month."

"What do you mean?"

"Unfortunately, I've known you for a while, and your family hasn't stopped you being all sunshine and rainbows before. As far as the Turkletons are concerned, the fact that they worshiped you was part of the why you were sunshine and rainbows. So the only reason your actually pissed, is because you've lost everything, and you can't remember." After a second, she added "Am I right?"

And JD couldn't deny she was. "Yeah." he sighed, and walked over to lean next to her on the tree.

"What's it feel like?" she asked.

"Did you ever wake up, and know that you had a dream, but for the life of you, you can't remember what it was about?"

"No. My dreams are about killing my ex husband, and I always remember those because there so good."

JD nodded. "That's not psychopathic at all."

Jordan smirked again.

"That's more like you." she said. "You don't come to parks to mope, your not that guy. You're the one that's always smiling, the one people like me just want to beat up. And when you do get upset, you do girly things like write them down in a journal or something."

"But like I said, this is kind of a big deal."

"I'm no doctor, but if I you have amnesia you can do two things. Number 1: you can try and hope to get your memories back; or, failing that, Number 2: you can accept that you have to start from scratch and get on with your life. What I wouldn't do, is come to parks and blubber about it, because that won't get you anywhere."

It was only when he heard it from her, this strange and scary woman, that he realised that he hadn't been trying to get his memories back at all, even though he'd been to Turk and Carla's apartment, and back to the hospital, all he'd done was feel sorry for himself, and she was right, that wasn't going to get him anywhere.

"Mommy, Mommy! I found a dead mouse!" Came the voice of Jack Cox.

"That's nice, honey." She shouted back, and then turned to him again. "Have you seen Perry since…" He shook his head. "A word of advice for when you do. He's gonna be a bastard, because that's all he's knows how to do. Just don't take it personally. And maybe find those balls you were using earlier."

He smirked. "I thought that wasn't the JD you know and love?"

"Oh, don't think at any point in this conversation I was telling you to go back to the way you used to be, I hated that guy. I just thought you should know how irritating you were."

He smiled again. From what Turk had told him about Cox, she was perfect for him. "Sure." he said.

"Jack! Time to go." She yelled, pushing herself off the tree. "'Night Sally."

"Goodnight Jordan."

He watched as mother and son walked away from him, son with aforementioned dead mouse in his back pocket. The sun was just about down, and he figured it was time he was getting home.

He just hoped he could remember the way he came.

--

As predicted, Turk and Carla had waited up for him, and both breathed a sigh of relief when he walked through the door. He apologised for yelling at them, and made a point to mention how grateful he was for their help. Carla in turn apologised for smothering him, saying she would try to tone it down from now on.

As he lay on the couch that night, JD considered Jordan's options. He decided to make sure he did everything he could to get his memories back, as knowing he gave it his best shot was the only way he'd be able to move on if they didn't come back.

He slept a little easier that night, and had dreams about a girl with blonde hair.


	5. Check Up

**This chapter turned out kind of short, or alot shorter then I thought it would be, and also kind of filler-y. I actually might have combined it with the next chapter, but not all of that's written yet and I promised faster updates, so here we are!**

**If you go back and look at my introduction for the first chapter, I mentioned that I didn't intend for this story to be angsty. It's kind of turned out that way, hasn't it? The whole Jordan conversation from the last chapter was intended to make JD a little less depressed, and while I'll try to keep him more upbeat and funny in future chapters, it's a bit of a serious subject. **

**Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

"Sorry, um, Doug was it?"

"Yeah, so anyway - "

"It's just that I have an appointment that I - "

"So what's ironic is that I went from a job were a dead body was bad, to a job were a dead body was good. Know what I mean?"

JD wondered if he'd actually just suggested that a dead body was _ever_ good. "I can't say I do, Doug. But listen, why don't we pick this up later, I have an appointment that I'm actually already late for.

"Oh, okay, see ya later." Doug nodded enthusiastically.

Turk was waiting for him around the corner.

"That guy's qualified to be a doctor?"

"I've seen worse." Turk smirked. "So, how're you feeling this morning?"

"Dude, I though we'd stopped all this 'Are you okay?' stuff?"

"Nah, see what we stopped was the _constant_ 'Are you okay?' stuff. We're allowed to ask it at least once."

JD laughed, something he probably wouldn't have done yesterday. But his talk with Jordan the night before had really changed his outlook on things. Pissing and moaning wasn't going to make his memories come back any quicker, so JD had decided to lighten up.

As they were walking, they caught part of a conversation between a doctor and his patient.

"Now," the doctor said "what can I do for you, Mr Pooh?"

JD's eyes met Turk's, and both burst out laughing. Again, something that wouldn't have happened a day ago. He'd laughed more that morning that he had in the last 48 hours. And from the way Turk and Carla were looking at him, he got the feeling he was acting like someone they knew.

"So how long do you think this'll take?" Turk asked when the laughter ended.

"Um, I don't know. How long does an exam usually take?"

"Depends on the exam. Anyway, I'll probably be in the Doctor's lounge, so just come find when you're done, okay?"

"You got it."

"Later, J-Dizzle." He patted JD on the arm as he walked off.

He liked Turk. Carla had told him so, but sometimes he could actually feel that they'd known each other forever.

Turning and walking towards Dr Dickinson's room, he saw that Dr Cox was walking towards him, reading a chart as he walked. As they neared each other, Cox looked up and saw him, held his gaze for a second, then looked away and walked right past.

JD watched him walk away in confusion; was that not the guy Carla and Turk said was his mentor? And was that not the first time they had saw each other since his accident? Jordan's words from the night before suddenly returned to him, _"He's gonna be a bastard, because that's all he's knows how to do."_

_

* * *

_

"Actually, closing your eyes kinda defeats the point of me shining this light in them."

"Sorry." JD said, instantly opening them again.

"So," Dr Dickinson said, moving the light from JD's right eye to his left. "as far as physical pain goes, how're we feeling?"

"Um, okay really. There was a bit of dull ache yesterday, but it feels fine today."

Dropping his light and putting on a pair of glasses, Dickinson left JD's eyes and examined the wound on the side of his head.

"Swelling's gone down nicely." he remarked, and then said "Invisible Turtle Fish."

JD looked at him, wondering if Dr Dickinson had even realised what he'd said. Before he could question it, Dickinson lightly ran his fingers over his cut. "How's that feel?"

"Like your poking the gash on my head." he grinned

Dickinson laughed. "Gash? Bit dramatic."

"Let's give one to you, see how you describe it."

"No thank you." he said, taking off his examination gloves and sitting down on the bed in front of JD. "So! _Physically_, your fine. How 'bout the other stuff? Anything coming back to you?"

"Nope."

"Nothing?"

"Nuh-uh"

"What about short-term memory?"

"Seems perfect, I found my way to the park last night and then remembered the way back."

"Really? And what were the three bizarre words I spoke earlier?"

"Invisible Turtle Fish!" JD said instantly. Mostly because he'd spent the last minute or so wondering if he'd imagined them.

"Very good." Dickinson replied with a grin.

It was a few seconds before JD asked what he'd wanted to ask since he'd stepped in the room. "Look, Doc, I need to ask you something, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't bullshit me."

Dr Dickinson immediately turned serious again and nodded for him to continue.

"If I was gonna remember anything… would I have showed some sign by now."

"Christ, JD, it's been two days!"

"I know, and I'm trying to be more positive, I am. It's just… I can't shake this feeling that I'm not going to remember anything, ever."

Dr Dickinson studied him for a moment. "And how does that make you feel? The thought of that?"

"It would suck. But… I'd live, y'know? I'm only 30."

"32."

"Whatever! What I mean is, my life isn't over right? I'd still have Turk and Carla and everybody, and I'd make new memories. Don't get me wrong, I want to get everything back, because they way people look at me and expect me to be the guy they've known for years, I can't take that. But what I'm saying is, not remembering is a very real possibility, and I'm prepared for it."

Dr Dickinson again didn't reply straight away, looking at JD and appearing to have an idea. "Normally, I'd say you're an idiot. And an impatient one at that."

"…Thanks?"

"Can you blame me? People with amnesia have gone _years_ without recovering lost memories and then just start randomly remembering things. You think, because you haven't recovered 32 years in 48 hours, you'll never recover anything. Like I said: impatient idiot."

"Are you going anywhere with this, or are you just having fun ripping on the sick guy?"

"Little of both, actually. But here's the thing: trying to force yourself to remember things isn't going to work. Things will come back to you whenever they damn well please, or not at all. _But_, by not expecting to remember things, because you're an impatient idiot, you leave yourself completely open to spontaneous recollections. In giving up on remembering anything, you might actually be giving yourself a better chance of doing exactly that! It's kind of like using reverse psychology on yourself."

"Hmm." JD simply replied.

"It's a little out there, but it might work." Dickinson said, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

"Yeah." JD said. "It _may_ have worked. But by bringing it to my attention in your detailed explanation, you kind of ruined any chance of me using it. Because now that you outlined it to my face, even though I say that I'm not expecting to remember anything, I'll always be expecting to remember something."

Dickinson looked heartbroken. "Oh."

"Yeah. Who's the impatient idiot now?"

* * *

"So how'd it go?" Turk asked him when he met up with afterwards.

JD could tell his friend was half-hoping to find out Dr Dickinson had somehow magically cured him, but was trying to hide it with his casual tone.

Which made it suck even more when JD sighed and said "As expected. No new information."

"It's only been two days, buddy, could be weeks or months before you get everything back."

As they walked towards the front entrance to meet Carla, JD remembered how most of yesterday's outburst had come about because JD was keeping his frustrations to himself. He didn't want that to happen again, and he also didn't want Turk living in false hope.

"Look, Turk. Y'know my memories, might not come back… right?"

Turk laughed. "Dude, of course they will."

The sincerity in that statement scared JD. He grabbed Turks arm and stopped walking.

"Turk, there's as much chance of me not remembering anything that this of the other way around."

"JD, you're gonna get your memories back sooner or later, everything will be back to normal."

"Dude, you can't just be so casual about this. And if the last two days are any indication, the chances of them not coming back are getting bigger by the minute. You've gotta prepare yourself for the fact that, I might have to start from scratch."

Turk saw for the first time that he was serious. "Do you wanna talk to Carla?"

That was unexpected. "What?"

"Carla. Do you want me to go get her so you can talk to her about this."

JD honestly didn't know what to say. Turk was his best friend, and he said they did everything together. Carla was great and everything, but why couldn't they talk about this themselves?

Turk unfortunately took JD's lack of response as a yes, and said he would go find his wife.

JD was still wondering if he was serious as he saw him turn the corner out of sight. Eventually, though, JD started to follow him. As he did, he bumped into a fairly large man.

"Ow.." he said, holding his shoulder. The man, who, going by his jumpsuit and nametag, was clearly a janitor, looked far too apologetic. After all, JD thought, all he'd done was bump into him, there was no need to look _that_ sorry.

"I'm…I'm… so sorry. I didn't… see you, I just…" the janitor stuttered.

"Dude." JD replied quickly. "It's alright, no harm done." The man still looked overcome with guilt. "Are you okay?"

The janitor simply looked at JD again, muttered one last 'sorry.' and pretty much ran down the hall away from him.

"That was weird." JD muttered. But, then again, he'd come to find that this was a weird hospital.

Remembering what he'd been doing, JD resumed going after Turk. When he reached the Entrance, he was annoyed to see Turk talking to Carla, probably getting her to come and find him.

He was just about to walk over to them, when he saw that Turk and Carla weren't alone. He stopped instantly.

Worry was written all over her features, but it didn't make them any less beautiful. From the bag that her hand was nervously clutching, it seemed she'd come straight from the airport. The sunlight streaming though the entrance lit up her blonde hair, and JD's brain seemed to immediately decide that the fact that she was wearing it up like that made it even more pretty.

Carla and Turk's mysterious looks and uncomfortable silences suddenly started to make a little more sense.

"Elliot." he said.

* * *

**By the way, I forgot to mention this at the end of the last chapter, so I'll ask here. In the chapter before this one (Chapter 4), did anyone catch a little hint, besides the obvious ones about the supply closet and the girl with blonde hair, that JD just MIGHT be starting to remember something? Something NOT about Elliot?**


End file.
